pen, paper, ink, and the imagination

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quakes and cracks

Outside appears dismal, yet the sky is suffused with light ‘though the sun can’t be seen. I’ve had a raggedy week. Last week I completed the first edit of Sleight of Hand, and now I’ve got a list of questions to answer. I must go down the rabbit hole and poke about.

I’m thinking of setting objectives again. This rarely goes well for me–my mind tends to behave as if it were an ice rink and my thoughts like skates–a lot of slipping and falling, unable to stay balanced. Anyway, I was thinking that one hour of writing in the morning should be devoted to the Austen and Valaria vampire romance, one page a day right now until I catch a groove. I’ve got the first five chapters sketched out. How hard can it be? After that, it’s time to work on Chained. The manuscript is a roughly completed first draft and now I need to get it together, make it coherent, turn it into a real novel. And then after spending time in development hell with Chained, I should start the second edit of Sleight of Hand. It all seems so clear and simple when I write it down. I’m like a drug addict determined to make it through rehab.

I’m very pleased about Sleight of Hand, despite its flaws, and I finished it a month ahead of my deadline, March 31st. At 14,725 words there is room for growth into a more fully realized novella. And I’m already making notes on a second Jerob Deal/Rafael Torrance story.

This afternoon I’m attending a workshop, Publishing and Marketing Your Book, by author and Indie Publisher Sonia Marsh, at the El Toro Library. I’m meeting other writer friends there. I’m looking forward to hearing what Ms. Marsh has to say.

Somewhere between one and two a.m. this morning, yes I was awake, I heard a bird calling out in little treble bursts. I imagined some small featherball perched on a tree limb, all alone in the well of night, singing out and hoping for a response. It was peculiar.